What Sarah Said
by Sazmuffin
Summary: Songfic based off of the song What Sarah Said by Death Cab for Cutie. Post Grave Danger. Not sure about rating yet. May go up. Summary: But I'm thinking of what Sarah said. That love is watching someone die. So who's gonna watch you die?
1. Chapter 1

Author: Sazmuffin

Disclaimer: I own nothing of CSI or the song 'What Sarah Said' by Death Cab for Cutie.

Title: What Sarah Said

Ship: Nick/Greg

Rating:

Length: Song-fic

Tension crackled through the hospital, sending chills down Greg's back. Interns shuffled around, pushing a cot through the halls or reading a patient's file as they made haphazardly made their way down the hall. The medical institution was cold, the kind of cold feeling you get when no one cares and you're just another person standing in the crowd. Patients who were well enough to move from their beds walked around with IVs, pouches filled with clear, sticky fluid that kept their pain at bay. Greg just couldn't take it anymore.

He leaned against the plain, white wall, his head resting in the crook of his elbow. His clothes were wrinkled and dirty, his face felt like he wore a paper machེ mask. His feet screamed and his heart ached. The doctors, the ones who always had been portrayed as those who help in a time of need, divulged close to no information about Nick's current state. Greg stared into the clear, glass window into Nick's face. He looked like he had been put through a shredder. His face and arms were blotchy, bumpy, and bright red. Greg couldn't begin to imagine the degree of pain his friend was experiencing right at this very moment.

"I can't take this anymore," Greg removed his face from his arm and started to pace nervously, back and forth.

Warrick looked up from his sleeping position. "This is all we can do to help, Nicky, Greg. Just sit and wait."

"There has got to be something we can do," the Level One CSI countered, "We're scientists. I can't just stand here and pretend everything is going to be okay."

Grissom looked at him, "No, Greg, it's not going to be okay. Nick is probably going to carry this tragedy with him for the rest of his life. No one can change that. We just have to hope for the best and pray things will go okay."

Greg angrily pounded his fist against the wall, and then wincing at the pain. "I can't just... I have to see him, I have to talk to him."

"We'll let you see him first, Greggo. As soon as the nurse comes and tells us we can see him," offered Catherine.

He smiled and thanked her.

The hours passed and finally, a nurse clad in a white lab coat approached them, holding Nick's file in her arms. She was an older woman, her grey hair pulled behind her head in a bun. Her scrubs were mint green and white, orthopedic shoes housed her feet.

"You are the family of Nicholas Stokes?"

"Coworkers," Grissom stood, and shook the woman's hand. "I'm his supervisor, Gil Grissom. These are his coworkers, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Sara Sidle, and Greg Sanders. His parents are out of state and should be here tomorrow."

The nurse nodded and replied, "You may see him now." She turned and walked away, dropping Nick's file into a basket nailed to the door of his room.

Warrick nodded to Greg and he understood. His hand came into contact with the icy door handle, and he took a deep breath as he opened the door.

What met his eyes almost made him want to sink to his knees and cry. Nick's pain was magnified by a thousandfold as he struggled to sit up and see who it was walking into his room. A small smile formed on his lips, but it slowly morphed into a wince of pain. Greg grabbed a chair from the side of the room and brought it right up against his bed.

"How are you feeling, Nicky?" he asked, and then swatted himself in the face. "Of course you're not feeling good. You just..."

Nick tried to laugh but it came out as a strangled chuckle. "It's okay, Greggo."

"Do they hurt?"

"They did at first, but the pain is just more like a dull ache. I've become somewhat numb to it," he shrugged.

"I'm sorry this had to happen to you, Nicky."

"It's not your fault."

"I know it's not," Greg shook his head, "But it could've been any one of us. And you've already been through a tragic moment in your life, you don't deserve another one."

Nick gulped slightly, and responded with, "What's done is done. No point in analyzing it."

"Ah, but we're scientists, Nick. Analyzing is what we do best."

A real chuckle came from Nick's throat and he smiled a real smile. "How true you are, Greg, how true you are."

The rest of the night shift soon entered the room, all getting their chance to talk to him. They pranced around the subject, not knowing whether or not to tell Nick who kidnaped him or why they did it. Soon, they figured that he'd ask when he was ready to know, if he wanted to know at all.

All but Greg left around an hour later, after Nick had fallen asleep. Greg had stayed to watch over him, to keep an eye out for him, something he should've done the night he was kidnaped. He soon fell asleep in the chair, his body slumped forward and his head resting on his shoulder. Greg awoke by the frantic pleas for help from Nick in his slumbering form. He stood, his neck cracking many times as he rolled it out.

Greg kneeled against Nick's cot and gently woke him, stirring him from his nightmare. Nick looked around, confused as to where he was. When he saw Greg, his hands latched around his arm and wouldn't let go. "Where am I, Greggo?"

"Nick, you were having a nightmare. You're in the hospital, safe. You've been here for almost two nights."

The Texan's manner seemed to calm down, as he laid back against his pillows. They didn't exchange words for a long while, until Nick asked, "Do they ever go away? The nightmares?"

Greg looked up, gulping. "With time. With time you'll come to accept it and then you'll be able to move on."

"And the scars?"

"I wouldn't know. I can't really see them without looking into a mirror from behind."

"Oh," Nick said, his voice quiet. "Can I see them?"

Greg shrugged and turned, lifting his shirt. He then felt cold fingers trace over the long scars, his back slowly growing goose bumps under Nick's touch. Once the fingers were no longer there, he sighed inwardly and pulled his shirt down, turning back to Nick.

Conversation ended there. Both men rarely met each other's eyes, hardly even glancing in the other's direction. The air was thick with medicine, perspiration, and failed attempts at rekindling conversation. All Greg really wanted to do was wait and sit and pray for Nick to be okay, for him to live, for him to be the same way he was before all this happened. But he knew that wouldn't happen. It wasn't in the cards. Nick Stokes was forever changed and there was little he could do about it.

"Greg, you really don't have to stay here," Nick's voice startled him.

"It's fine, Nicky."

"You know, Greg, to tell you the truth, I'd really rather be left alone."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Greg gulped loudly, his eyes blinking, almost not hearing what he said. The pain he felt for the past thirty two hours was just amplified beyond his imagination. Nick didn't want him there and he didn't even know why.

"It-It's nothing personal," Nick's voice was strangled as Greg slowly stood from his chair. "I just... I just want to be alone for a while. To think."

Greg nodded, but didn't say anything. He knew that Nick was in the right, it was common nature to want to be alone after something so momentous as this. He just didn't want to accept it.

As Nick watched Greg moved to the door, he opened and closed his mouth more times than he could count, trying to come up with something intelligent to say, with an apology, something that would rid the defeated look that was showcased on Greg's face. He felt his heart break as the new CSI's face turned to look at him, giving him a small smile and a four-fingered wave goodbye. Greg's body retreated out of the hospital, blinking away tears he hoped Nick couldn't see through the transparent walls.

Greg stepped into his red Hyundai, putting the key into the ignition. His sigh was muted under the car's roar of life. His forehead made contact with the steering wheel, letting his sorrows leak into the car's floor. Greg couldn't explain his tears, couldn't explain the grief he felt, he couldn't explain why he had needed to make sure Nick was okay, why he had to talk to him so badly, or why his refusal of his company made his heart hurt as it did. He was wrapped in a translucent blanket, with nowhere to go and no destination in sight. Greg didn't even understand his own problems.

"How much longer 'til I hit rock bottom?" he asked himself, shaking his head and switching gears. "Because I'm wearing thin."

* * *

Nick's head looked up towards the ceiling, slowly banging against the headboard. The room didn't have the same aura it did when Greg inhabited it as well, it didn't have the warmth in it that it had when he was there. The realization that he was just another patient, just another file to look at, just another case to stress over, hit him like someone smacked him over the head with his nine millimeter.

"Why, why, why..." Nick closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "Why are you so dumb, Nick Stokes?"

What pained him the most that Greg's visits became so nix that he barely saw the man from then on. He came with the rest of the shift, when all of them were off and they all decided to see him, but he usually loitered in the background, not looking at him or speaking to him. He knew that he hurt the young man's feelings, his pride, and his dignity, but he had no medicine or tool to fix these things. Nick had no idea how to make up for his mistake. Or even why it had caused Greg to feel as bad as he did. He couldn't understand it.

On the days that Nick spent asleep, Greg would stare into the plexiglass, sighing over and over again, with his palm pressed against the wall. One would classify his gazes as longing, one would classify it has perverted, or peculiar. Many families and hospital staff would recognize him as the man that stood alone, at the window of room number thirty-seven, never speaking or moving or even showing any connection to Nicholas Stokes at all. His face was void from every emotion except sadness.

* * *

Greg switched his weight from his left foot to his right foot, from his right foot to his left foot. He couldn't stay still. He fought the tears that threatened to seep from his eyes, he fought the urge to sniffle. He had been standing for hours, staring into the window. His knees finally gave, sending him crashing to the ground, his head resting against the concrete wall below the window. His knees screamed in agony since he had not tried to soften the blow, but let himself fall without any knowing. Greg's hands covered his face and he masked his tears, openly crying and fully aware that everyone's eyes were on him.

There were emotions buried deep down inside himself, that sometimes he even didn't see. They had been buried there for almost his entire life, and they all rushed to his head, conceiving a thick layer of fog that settled just behind his eyes. A massive migraine began to form in his brain, making his thought process even more clouded than it had been before. He was spiraling and he could feel it, he knew it was happening to him. He was just standing in the sidelines, watching as his life was being slowly torn apart by the actions of a crazy, bitter man who blew himself up.

A nurse approached him, lending him an arm.

Greg didn't take it, he didn't even look at her. He stayed in his convenient cubby of seclusion.

"Sir, you can see Nick Stokes if you'd like. You don't have to stand out here like you've been doing."

"I know," Greg's voice was a mixture of emotions he didn't even know he had.

"Then why don't you go in?"

"He wants to be alone."

The woman squatted next to him. "Why?"

"I have no idea."

"When did he tell you that?"

Greg looked at the woman, not caring about his appearance. "The other day."

The nurse's eyes widened. "How do you know he doesn't want to have company today?"

"I don't."

She patted his back. "Go see him, sir. You never know."

Greg watched her retreating back. Face Nick? Listen to his handsome, bass voice? His throat started to dry up like the Sahara, and his palms started to sweat. His fingers twitched and his pulse picked up. Why was he reacting this way? Why was he so nervous, just thinking about talking to Nick?

He gulped and placed his hand onto the silver door knob. Greg's breath caught in his throat and he snatched back his hand as if the knob were on fire. He leaned his body against the door and hit his head against it, wondering how he would ever be able to face Nick again. It didn't make any sense. What Nick had said to him was barely even offensive; it was just a request to be left alone. So why did it effect him the way it did?

Thanks for the reviews. They make me giddy. Keep them coming and you'll get more chapters. xD


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it took so long. xD R/R pleaseee. **

* * *

Chapter 3

Greg woke up with his head buried into his pillow, his eyes caked with sleep. He wore his clothes from the day before, now wrinkled and smelling of sleep. His face felt dry and glued together, and he remembered the previous night. Greg's pillow was still wet with the hurricane of tears that flooded from his eyes, and he knew it was the salty water that made his face react as it did.

He knew why Nick affected him the way he did, he just refused to admit it. What happened to all those years crushing on Sara? Doesn't that count? On occasion, he had snuck a few peaks of Warrick's ass or Nick's lips, but he thought those were just hormones. But when he had his first wet dream about Nick, Greg knew something was up. He couldn't admit that he was attracted to men, so he buried it deep down inside it, where he knew no one, including himself, could find it.

Just thinking about the dream made his heart beat faster and blood rush to his head. Ever since he was little, Greg always had a rather dirty mind. Something about sex just fascinated him. He rarely spoke of it, but studied it as a teen. Greg internally called himself a pervert, but at that moment in time he really just didn't care. With the dream suddenly back into his mind, all of the forbidden fantasies seeped in through cracks of his composure.

Greg knew he was in love with Nick, he couldn't deny it any longer. It was hurting him and Nick and everyone else. He had tried to ignore the looks he received as he walked through the halls of the lab, how conversations just seemed to stop when he entered a room, but he felt like a deer in headlights. Like someone, no matter who, always oversaw his actions. Like someone knew the thoughts floating around in his head. Greg couldn't take it anymore.

He took determined steps towards Nick's hospital room, disregarding his throbbing and aching heart, for he knew that Nick didn't love him. He knew he had to get over it, and the faster he did it, the better. As soon as he told Nick, he could begin his own recovery. Doubt and guilt had plagued him for too long. He was tired of trying to hide it; although it was easy when Nick wasn't around. When he was? Greg could barely hold onto his flashlight because of his sweaty palms and his mouth wouldn't form any words.

Greg palmed the door nob and walked into Nick's room, breathing heavily. What he saw angered him. Nick was sleeping. He couldn't be sleeping. He had to be awake, to hear Greg say he loved him. He just had to be. Greg started to lose his momentum and slowly backed away from his coworker, almost making it out the door when Nick awoke with a start, groggily calling his name.

"Greggo?"

The young CSI gulped, closed his eyes, and turned, "Hey, Nicky. How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Nick's smile was enough to make Greg pool onto the floor. "I really needed the rest."

Greg pulled up his familiar chair and pushed it closer to Nick's bed. "That's great, Nicky. I'm so glad you're feeling better. We're missing you like crazy at work."

Nick shrugged, but smiled. "Honestly?"

"Would I lie to you?" he gulped, sick of his lying facade. As the other man shook his head, Greg began to feel like he was being ripped apart at the seams. "Actually, I would."

"Greg, come on, be serious."

"No, Nick, I have something I have to tell you. It's really important."

"Is it about the lab? Did something happen?"

He shook his head and contemplated how he was going to explain it. "No, nothing happened at the lab. I... I've had a revelation."

Nick gave him a questioning look. "About what, Greggo?"

"Well, about myself. And you."

"Do tell."

Greg gulped again, and replied, "I've realized that... that you mean a lot more to me than I ever thought you did. After your kidnapping, I went out of my mind with worry," at this point, Greg had stood and was pacing around the room. "And I began to think to myself. 'Why do I care this much? Sure, I mean, he's a big part of my life, I've known him for six years, but this doesn't explain why I can't sleep at night or why I can't seem to keep any food down or why every thought that goes through my head is about you or where you are or how you're feeling or what you're doing." Greg paused and scratched his neck. "And then I thought, maybe, like, you really did mean more to me than a friend would. Than a brother or a father or cousin would. But, what you mean to me equaled the love a husband has for his wife." Nick's jaw dropped in shock, but Greg started again. "And then I said to myself, 'But, Greg, come on, man. You like girls. And even if you did like guys, you wouldn't be attracted to Nicky. Because you work together and it'd get weird.' But then I started to notice how different it was when you weren't here and how much it hurt me to have you say to me that you wanted me to leave." He rested his head against the wall, not facing Nick. He fought for the right words and hit his head against the plaster. "I-I don't know how to explain it. I get this fleeting, almost bubbly feeling whenever I'm around you, Nicky. I'm getting it now, just being here. I can't concentrate on the crime scene when we're together, or when I used to process evidence for you. I'd always do yours first because... because I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you, Nicky." Greg turned around and was not shocked by Nick's stunned face. He placed a hand over his own heart and gripped it, digging his fingers into his chest. "Up to my eyes."

For a long while, Greg stood holding his heart as Nick looked from east to west, almost as if he were trying to look for a way out. He didn't know what to tell Greg, he didn't know how to say anything to him after his confession.

"No."

"Pardon?"

"No. No, no, no, no. I-I'm not like... that, Greg. I don't-I don't like men. I-I don't like you. In that way. I mean, you're a nice guy, but no. I'm not... I'm not weird. I like girls." Nick continued to babble about how he wasn't weird or unnatural, never once saying the word 'gay'.

It hurt Greg more to that he wasn't weird, like him, come from Nick's lips, than it did to hear that Nick held no romantic feelings towards him. To hear such an insult come from such a sweet, caring man just didn't feel right. But Greg stood there and took it, letting his tears fall onto his jacket, not bothering to try and hide it.

With a last sniffle, Greg turned and walked to the door, and said, "I'm sorry, Nicky."


End file.
